


What Can I Say (You Take My Breath Away)

by ArtsyDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Breathplay, Bruises, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Safewords, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/F/M, Trust Kink, Vaginal Sex, of the magical kind that create a feedback loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 05:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyDeath/pseuds/ArtsyDeath
Summary: Hermione takes a well deserved break after a long night at the office, meaning to grab a drink and eat some good food away from the constant stress that hounds her.Blaise and Daphne are a chance meeting and Hermione finds her evening unfolding into something else entirely.-Or: Hermione craves the chance to give up control and Blaise and Daphne are all too willing to give it to her (and more).





	What Can I Say (You Take My Breath Away)

**Author's Note:**

> Many brilliant thanks to MrsRen for helping me edit this up! They were an absolute blessing and I don't know what I would have done without them.
> 
> **Prompt:**  
15\. Breath play
> 
> Written for The Restricted Section's Multi and Triads Kinktober 2019 fest.

Hermione is stressed – she admits to it as she stares down blankly at the lines of letters and numbers, quite unable to absorb any of it, the words blurring together in a mess that makes her rub tiredly at her eyes as she lifts her head up, gaze darting to the charmed window reflecting the dark sky above her parents house.

The clock on the wall beside it, a gift from her mother, lets her know it’s well past midnight and by all reason she should be home, asleep, and not doing… this.

And yet here she is, once again working late, scrambling for control out of her grasp.

She leans back, breathing out hard.

In two days time she’ll be turning twenty-two but it feels like a life-time since she explored the hidden crooks and corners of Hogwarts Castle, her office in the Ministry eating up her time and life until she barely caught wind or hair of her two best friends.

Ron and Harry at least had the fortune to work together in the Auror office and the loneliness that worms through her at the thought tugs into a headache.

“I made my decisions and they made theirs,” she tells the silence.

It had been a relief to leave the fighting behind – Hermione has always preferred her books and academics and though a part of her misses the adrenaline that burst through her with her wand in hand, she doesn’t miss the darker turns of it, the inside of her wrist scarred with the letters Bellatrix had carved into it.

No, she hadn’t wanted to make her life about it and with her mind set on the liberation of those thought as lesser by the very laws of the Magical World, she’d thrown her everything into it.

But it feels like an impossible uphill battle most days, the magical world so locked and rusted in its ways that the Hogwarts curriculum was years behind even with Albus Dumbledore as its Headmaster.

Rubbing at her neck, she reaches out and closes the book after sliding a bookmark in place, shuffling her chair back and rising with a stretch of her arms above her head and a satisfying crack of her spine after spending far too many hours sitting down.

Hermione shuffles the things in place, making sure her desk is reasonably clean, pausing when she spots her forgotten lunch and lets it drop into the trash with a regretful twist of her mouth as her stomach decides to remind her just how hungry she is.

Does she have anything at home? Hermione is hard-struggled to remember and she grabs for her coat and scarf, wrapping it twice around her neck in a loop of dark blue as she locks the office shut behind her.

She makes her way down the dark corridor to the fireplace which had been locked to her signature after one too many times of forgetting the time.

It responds with a flare of fire at the touch of her fingers.

She grabs a pinch of Floo powder, debating with herself for a moment before deciding that it’s Friday, and even she deserves a chance for a drink and some good food. 

-

Hermione steps out with a wandless brush of magic to rid herself of the soot, practically second nature by now as she makes sure her hair is in place before taking a step forward and aside for a grinning couple leaning heavily against each other.

It had been some time since she visited Hogsmeade but Madam Rosmerta’s homemade food sounded like just the thing she needed. 

And perhaps she’s feeling just a bit nostalgic as she steps into the pub from the backroom and finds the easy, familiar, warm atmosphere that had drawn them during their school days. The air is heavy with the smell of food and it was decently filled, one or two tables still free, and Hermione automatically makes her way to the one in the corner where Harry had once hidden beneath his invisibility cloak.

Her hand brushes a bit fondly against it before she unbuttons her coat and unwraps her scarf as the warmth seeps into her.

“Well, if it isn’t Hermione Granger!” Rosmerta’s voice greets her, blonde haired with a curvy body and well into her fifties now with just a brush of grey at her temples, looking as youthful as ever. She’d been the eye candy of more than one Hogwarts student during the years and even Hermione had harboured a fanciful crush for the easy warm smiles.

_The aging of wizards and witches are a remarkable thing,_ Hermione thinks to herself as she smiles up at the woman.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Madam Rosmerta,” she says honestly.

“As you say, darling,” the bartender says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Fancy a drink? Some food?”

“I’d love some shepherd pie and something strong, but sweet if you don’t mind.”

“I think I have something,” Rosmerta says thoughtfully, teeth snagging at a plump lip. “Give me a bit and I’ll be right back,” she promises with a decisive turn of her heel as she makes her way to the bar and the many bottles crowding behind it.

Rosmerta makes good on her promise and Hermione trades words with her as she’s urged into trying something purple that bubbles pleasantly in her belly after she’s swallowed it down, an arch of peppery sweetness lingering on her tongue in a combination that shouldn’t work but most certainly does.

The bartender gives her a fond smile and a squeeze of her shoulder after sliding the pie in place.

“Call me if you need anything,” she says, refilling her glass with a twist of her wand before heading towards the call of her name from one of the more crowded tables.

The only other free table is soon filled and there’s a pleasant chatter in the air as Rosmerta makes her way around and Hermione savours her pie, soon digging through her pocket for some of the latest letters that needed to be read before Monday morning, just to have an excuse to slow down and linger.

It’s pretty interesting stuff, but the third one makes her mouth curl down as she leans back, taking a long draft of her drink as she scans through the dismissal, badly hidden racism of werewolves staring back at her from between the lines of the fancy words in a green penned loopy writing that made her think of Rita Skeeter.

“Hermione?” Hermione glances up, pausing as her eyes darted two to the two familiar people to Rosmerta’s right. “Do you mind?” Rosmerta asks apologetically. “We’re awfully full today.”

“Oh- I should start heading home anyway,” she hurries out even as disappointment worms through her.

“No need, Granger,” Blaise Zabini says in a low smooth sort of voice that makes her eyes dart up to look at him. He’s always been pretty, his skin a warm brown colour. He’d shaved his hair short and those eerie purple eyes standing out vividly. “We don’t mind sharing, right, darling?”

“Not at all,” Daphne Greengrass says with a cool smile that simultaneously makes her look pretty and Hermione feel like she hasn’t showered in four days and taken a roll down a muddy hill with the way her blue eyes dipped and lingered upon her.

“I – well, feel free,” Hernione says a bit awkwardly as Rosmerta takes the last of her pie and refills her glass with a thankful smile that Hermione struggles to return as the two Slytherins make their order.

She busies herself with her letters, pawing for her pen as she drew and absent leg up to rest the first letter against and start picking it apart, taking vicious satisfaction in small scrawled notes that would need to be fancied up into polite speech but for now drained some of her irritation.

_Really_, the narrowmindedness of some – it tires her. She’s struggled hard enough as a _Mudblood_ in old stigmatized politics that she was told over and over that she _just didn’t understand, _implying that she couldn’t because she isn’t part of the society.

She can’t imagine what Lupin must have faced in the seventies as a werewolf seeing how bad it was even thirty years later.

She slows down after nearly poking a hole through the entire thing after rereading one of the lines towards the end and rubs a bit tiredly at her brow as she reaches for her drink, taking a healthy sip of the liquid. 

“Rough night?” It takes Hermione a count of five seconds to realise the words had been addressed to her as she snaps her head up to look at Zabini who has his chin cradled in one palm, leaning onto the table with his elbow, hand wrapped around a round glass of firewhisky.

He’s shed his coat, revealing a white button-up shirt beneath a green sweater with a firefly in a darker shade by the shoulder. The sleeves had been rolled up, revealing a clasp of golden around his wrist to match the looped earrings on the sides of his head and he looked calm and surprisingly relaxed where he watches her.

“Something like that,” Hermione says, just a tad warily. “Date?” She inquiries in turn because she’s not a complete social heathen despite Ron’s complaints.

“Friendly outing,” Zabini says with a flash of white teeth.

“We’ve been together for two years,” Greengrass says dryly. “He just doesn’t like admitting to it.”

“With the way your family is, they’d be harassing us for marriage by the end of the week,” Zabini says, turning to her. “It’s all about loopholes, _darling_.”

“I’m not the mother with a reputation for killing off her spouses, _pumpkin,_” Greengrass returns with a pretty little curl of her lips.

“If I wanted you for your money, I would have proposed ages ago and you’d be very, very dead, _sugarplum.”_

“So you think, _doll._”

Zabini opens his mouth only to snap it closed, mouth curling up in amusement as Hermione slaps her hands over hers to hide the sound of her giggles. 

“Sorry,” she gasps apologetically with a wave of her hand. “It’s been a very long week,” she excuses herself as she finally lowers her hands, mouth still twitching.

“You’re alright, Granger,” Zabini drawls.

“Hermione, please,” she says, relaxing some.

“Hermione then,” Greengrass agrees, surprising her as she looks to the other woman. “I’m sure you remember our names as well?” She raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

“Blaise and Daphne, yes,” Hermione agrees. “It wasn’t that long ago since we shared the same dining halls.”

“We didn’t interact a lot though,” Blaise points out. “The Golden Trio was all about the rivalry with Malfoy, you mostly avoided the rest of us Slytherins.”

“Fair,” Hermione agrees, taking a sip of her drink. “We were quite busy.”

_“Quite,”_ Daphne agrees. “If it wasn’t a troll, there was a basilisk, or dementors, or criminals breaking into the school, and-”

“I blame Harry entirely for at least half of those,” Hermione breathes into her glass, but her mouth twitches.

“I think my favourite rumour was the one of you hitting Malfoy during our third year,” Blaise muses with liquid satisfaction. “I would have paid to see it.”

“I broke it,” Hermione confides. “He wouldn’t look at me for the rest of the year.”

The two Slytherins are strangely disarming, Hermione decides, belly pleasantly warm and letters eventually folded back into the pocket of her jacket.

Daphne orders a white drink which tastes of plum when it’s nudged to her with a challenging brow that Hermione can’t quite resist, sliding her own drink over in return. It’s sharper than her own but just as good and Hermione takes a long sip while meeting blue eyes just to make a point of it before relinquishing it back.

She learns that the two of them had opened up a business together, dealing with matters of the law.

“The Magical World’s laws are aged,” Daphne says with some derision. “They’re filled with loopholes just waiting to be exploited.”

“I always found it odd how Dumbledore could spiral away a child without will or as much as a check-up from the government,” Hermione muses as she flags down Rosmerta for a refill.

There’d been a scatting slander review in the Daily Prophet just a year ago where someone had managed to track down the Dursley’s for an interview to Harry’s horror and faint shame.

_“WE’RE DONE WITH THAT FREAK.”_

\- _THE FAMILY OF THE GOLDEN BOY SPEAKS OUT_

It had been a whole spectacle and Hermione had taken pleasure in exploiting her contacts to tear into the journalist with some help from Rita Skeeter who hadn’t taken well to her _competition._

The woman could be downright vicious with the right incentive and Hermione had to admire it when it wasn’t directed at herself or her friends.

They’d had more than one evening together where Rita had quite unashamedly made her appearance at her office, swinging down in clothes that always had that poisonous green shade displayed without a hint of shame.

“It’s illegal, is what it is,” Daphne says with a curl of her red painted lips. “But enough about work,” she says pleasantly. “Tell me about _you._” And the way she says that really shouldn’t make Hermione’s insides warm in response, blue eyes sharp upon her.

“Working,” Hermione says with a tired smile.

“No romance? With the way the three or you were attached during our school days I thought for sure you would end up with either Potter or Weasley,” Blaise says with some surprise.

“You’re not the only one,” Hermione replies with a grimace.

She loved Molly, she really did, but the woman had taken her mutually agreed break-up with Ron as a personal offence and she hadn’t dared to set a single foot in the Burrow for almost two years. Ginny had been very sympathetic as her own relationship with Harry had broken off with many tears and then a lot of food because unlike Harry, Hermione had never quite been a part of the Weasleys.

The sting from the brush-offs in their fourth year still curled in her belly and she’d found comfort with Fleur who’d hugged her tight and offered her a drink with Bill hoovering with an apologetic grimace in the background as they made themselves at home in her apartment for a week after getting news of it.

“But no, no romance for me,” she admits. “I never-” She quiets because there had been a lot of things that just didn’t work between her and Ron but it had always come down to _control._

Hermione was in charge of everything at all the time and sex with Ron had always wound her up instead of destressing her and she’d come to hate it at the end. She wanted – and it embarrassed her to admit it – but she wanted _someone else_ to just be in charge, if just for a moment, to allow herself a moment not to think and just _enjoy._

It wasn’t something she could just ask of anyone. She hadn’t even been able to muster up the words to explain to Ron who loved to carefully and wholly and wouldn’t dream or hurting her.

So they’d broken up and last she heard he’d picked it up again with Lavender Brown.

“It just didn’t work out,” she says eventually, rubbing at her brow, feeling the lingering headache from earlier creeping back.

Work is stressful and she’s knotted so tightly most days that she doesn’t really know what to do with herself.

“Sorry to hear it,” Blaise says genuinely, exchanging a glance with his girlfriend to a raised brow and a contemplative look at the brown-haired girl that made her eyes darken before snapping back to him.

He wiggled his brows in response.

“It’s getting late,” he says, stretching his arms up with a roll of his shoulders. “We have some wine at home if you’re feeling up for it,” he invites with a charming curl of his lips.

Hermione’s eyes dart up, realising that most had already filed out or were in the motion of it, Rosmerta carrying trays of glasses away to the kitchen.

“I shouldn’t-” she says, flustered. “I still need to get this done and-“

“Hermione,” Daphne says with an edge that draws brown eyes almost desperately towards her. “Come drink wine with us.”

-

For a second Blaise holds his breath, wondering if perhaps he’d misread the look in the only female member of the Golden Trio, but then her shoulders relaxed slowly, something like relief creeping into her eyes.

“Yeah,” she says with a swallow. “Wine sounds nice.”

-

“Are you sure?” Daphne asks in an undertone after herding the other girl down onto their couch in the living room. “I know we spoke of bringing in a third but have you really thought this through? It isn’t just a onetime thing with people like her.”

_“Look at her,”_ Blaise breathes as he deliberates over the wines to give them a moment to talk. “She needs it, we can give it, and I _want to give it._ And,” he says, as he turns to read the back of one of the Italian ones. “You can’t tell me the thought of having _Hermione Granger_ coming apart beneath you doesn’t make you hot beneath the collar.”

“She’s cute,” Daphne agrees as he takes it down, her back to the counter. “Clever and charming, in her own way, I suppose.”

“She left Hogwarts with the highest scores in history since _the Dark Lord,_” Blaise says quietly with some marvel.

They look to the brown haired girl and then share a long glance.

“I bet I can make her beg,” Daphne says with a sharp smile.

“Darling, I’m counting on you to,” Blaise says, drawing her in for a kiss. “Come on – be a dear and grab the glasses.”

-

Hermione has the feeling she’s out of the loop but she’d distracted by the way Blaise’s body rests warm against her side, Daphne curled up with her knees resting by her thighs – both of them far closer than the couch necessarily required them to be.

But the two Slytherins show no signs of taking note of it, far more relaxed here in their home than they had been at the Three Broomsticks. A small thing but noticeable with the exchange of glances and touches between them, arms brushing hers, shoulders eased down and smiles coming easier.

She can also _smell them._ The soft flowery perfume on Daphne off-set against the spicier tang of Blaise’s cologne.

She tries to shift a bit surreptitiously but there’s really nowhere for her to go and she takes a distracted sip of her wine to take her mind away from paths they certainly had no right to wander down.

They were _together_ and whatever reason had made them take pity on her she spoiled with the little anxious twist in her belly that wanted Daphne to look at her with those sharp blue eyes and take the control away from her, to give _command_ rather than to _ask_.

It’s a dangerous line of thinking – they’re Slytherins and if there was anything Hermione knew about them, it was that things were never easy and straight forward in their games. Slytherins strived in making things complicated from themselves.

And yet she can’t help the wetness that had pooled between her legs with the simple command at the bar, her mouth agreeing before her mind caught up with her.

_You’re slipping,_ Hermione chides herself.

“It’s a pity,” Daphne says, her lips far too close where she rests with an elbow supported on the back of the couch, her body angled towards Hermione’s. “That you don’t have someone to give you what you need.”

Hermione blanks, not quite sure what they’d been talking about to bring this on.

Daphne had unbuttoned the two top buttons of her blouse inside the apartment, revealing a pale stretch of skin and the beginning swell of her chest. It wasn’t anything near indecent and yet terribly distracting and Hermione has to force herself not to look down – knew how much she resented such looks herself, hard as they were to escape.

“It is what it is,” Hermione gets out as Blaise’s arm reaches over her to refill Daphne’s glass, her nose brushing momentarily against the fabric of his sweater before she jerked back a bit flustered.

Daphne hums. “I’d miss Blaise for more than one reason,” she says, the wine almost as red as her lips as she smiles. “It’s hard to find a man who doesn’t think shoving it in is the extent of having a good time.”

“I knew you didn’t just want me for my looks,” Blaise says with a press of his hands against his heart.

“I prioritized sex before personality,” Daphne says, voice dry enough that Hermione chokes on her next sip of wine and Blaise laughs beside her.

“Still, you don’t strike me as the sort who abstain from it,” Daphne says with a little contemplative tilt of her head. “Looking for the right one?”

Hermione feels her cheeks warm. “Not- not as such,” she says, tongue licking against her lips.

“Oh?” Daphne presses, leaning closer. “Having a hard time finding someone who matches up with your own wants and needs?” she asks knowingly.

“Daphne,” Blaise warns.

But the blonde is close enough now that Hermione’s vision is filled with nothing but blue. “I know what you want, _Hermione_,” she says, their noses brushing together, warm breath ghosting over her lips. “You just want someone to be in charge and that’s a hard thing to trust with just _anyone_, isn’t it?”

Daphne’s eyelashes are dark against her pale skin and Hermione feels a tremble run through her as the girl draws back, taking a sip of her wine.

“What-” she gets out, her voice coming out rougher than she meant.

“What Daphne is getting at,” Blaise says with a mild touch of irritation that bleeds away when he looks earnestly to her, “is that you look a bit stressed and if you’re interested we’re offering you a chance to get rid of it, if you will. Our relationship is a bit unorthodox – Daphne and I both like being in charge and sometimes that means we butt heads and having a third, someone to balance our needs out with theirs… Well.” He gives a shrug.

“Why me?” she asks with a furrow of her brow.

“You _need it _and we _want it_,” Blaise says with a lidded look. “Does it have to be more complicated than that?”

“With you Slytherins, one never knows,” Hermione says even as something squirms inside of her at the offer, at the awareness of them, at the promise of something she wanted so very desperately.

“All you need to do is trust us,” Blaise says softly as he reaches out and brushes some strands away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and she tilts her head just a fragment into his touch, vulnerability in her eyes. “We know what we’re doing,” he promises her. “We’ll push you just as far as you need. We’ll make you beg, we might even make you cry. We’ll take your breath away in all the best ways. But we’ll give you a word, an assurance that we’ll stop, and on my honour, I swear to you we’ll abide by it.”

Hermione tastes the magic of the promise, Daphne’s eyes lingering sharp on them both with a darkening sort of hunger as the former Gryffindor swallowed and closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them up.

“Okay,“ she says, a tremble in her voice.

Blaise’s mouth stretches out as he leans forward, nose brushing against her cheek before he pressed his lips to it. “Thank you,” he murmurs and Hermione’s breath hitches. “The word I give you is _Malfoy_.” She stills but his mouth is gliding up, tongue stroking up the shell of her ear. “Repeat it for me,” he rumbles.

“Malfoy,” Hermione says slowly, a small tremble running through her as his mouth sealed down, teeth dragging rough against her ear.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, giving the soft arch a little tug.

“Blaise,” Daphne says, her tone clipped and he obligingly draws back, Hermione’s eyes tracking him for a moment before darting to Daphne. “Bedroom,” the blonde says simply, with a tilt of her head for Hermione who jerks to her feet, glass stolen from her fingers by Blaise who gives his girlfriend a heady look.

Hermione follows, eyes locked onto the elegant arch of Daphne’s neck, the thick braid falling down her right shoulder. She feels her heart pounding inside her chest, wariness and want warring equally inside of her as Daphne opens the door to their bedroom and steps inside.

_Clothes, _Hermione’s mind grasps and she takes a step forward-

“Stop,” Daphne says firmly and Hermione halts automatically at the sharpness of her voice. “In here I set the pace,” the blonde says as she takes a step forward, hand reaching up, settling against her cheek with a little warning curl of nails digging into her skin. “You won’t touch me or Blaise if we don’t allow you to. You won’t touch _yourself_ unless we give you permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Hermione responds roughly, mouth dry.

“Good,” Daphne murmurs, hand trailing down her cheek and chin to brush contemplatively against the arch of Hermione’s throat before giving her shirt a little tug. “I think I’d like you quite naked,” she murmurs. “_Strip_,” she says, mouth curling around the word, making it very clear it wasn’t a request as she stepped back.

Hermione reaches automatically for her shirt, mind latching onto the command, curling around it like treasure as she gets her blazer off and then the blouse beneath it, fingers brushing over the leather strap on the inside of her wrist before she bends down, getting her sock off with a swallow as she straightened up and reached for her belt.

Her pants pools down on the floor and a tremor runs through her as she reaches for the clasp of her bra, aware of the way Daphne is watching her, patient and hungry, wine glass still in hand which she takes a long sip from as the dark fabric hits the floor.

“You’re thinking too much,” Daphne says as Hermione reaches for her underwear, swallowing as she dragged them down, stepping out of them with a little shiver at the cool air of the room, nipples pebbling. “Don’t worry,” the blonde assures her as she drags her eyes up Hermione’s bare body. “I’ll make sure the only thing on your mind is my name.”

“_Our_ names, you mean,” Blaise murmurs as he steps inside, door closing behind him, and Hermione twitches but doesn’t turn at the sharpening look from blue eyes.

Blaise runs an appreciative eye up the swell of her rump and the arch of her back, purple eyes meeting blue as he slipped his arms around the former Gryffindor to a sharp inhalation as he pressed his lips against her neck with a little hum. His fingers trail up her belly, feeling her muscles rippling with some appreciation before cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing hard nipples.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs, tongue dragging against her neck, kneading her breasts. “I bet you’d look even prettier with some colour on your skin though.” He meets Daphne’s blue eyes to a twitch of her lips just before he bites down, digging in roughly and tightening his grip when she jerked in his grip with a rough inhalation and then a groan. Her head tipped to bare it further as he sucked hard on her skin, bruising it with a rough drag of his teeth before pulling back.

“Look at that,” he breathes. “I was quite right.” He can’t resist dragging his tongue over the mark, a very primal part of him enjoying the claim of it.

Daphne would never have allowed it, but Hermione isn’t Daphne, that was the point, and he’s already half-hard inside his pants at the promise the pale stretch of skin offered for them.

Especially that pretty, pretty throat of hers – he’s caught Daphne lingering on it more than once during the evening.

Testing limits were a very careful thing to do and he gives her right nipple a rough twist, watching Daphne’s expression carefully as he dragged his hand up.

Hermione’s head tipped back to give him full access without a word as he framed the vulnerable skin with an oh-so-gentle squeeze of his hand to a low noise.

_Oh_, he thinks, and he sees the surprise and heady want mirrored in Daphne’s blue eyes.

“You safe?” He murmurs into her ear as he gives her a little tilt towards him, nibbling on her ear.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Us too,” Blaise reassures her. “We still have things if you want it but if you’re not terribly opposed…” His hand dips meaningfully, nails threading through dark curls. “I’d quite like claim you in all the ways I can.”

She sucks in a sharp little breath as he pushes forward, letting her feel his hardening cock against her rump. “_All_ the ways,” he repeats, palm flattening against her lower belly to keep her firmly in place against him as he nosed against her neck.

He pauses in surprise as she turns to look at him over her shoulder, eyes dark and lovely and so filled with want. “Anything you want,” she murmurs with just a touch of desperation. “Just tell me what to do.” 

“Daphne,” Blaise begs roughly, eyes on the pink lips in front of him.

“You may,” his girlfriend agrees and – bless her – he grasps for the back of Hermione’s neck and secures her as he claims her lips with a groan as she opens willingly for him, relinquishing control.

Daphne steps towards them, manicured nails dragging thoughtfully down a pale stretch of skin before she sank to her knees.

“Don’t move,” Daphne says simply. 

Hermione moans into Blaise’s mouth, fingers twitching, so desperate to touch in return as a tongue strokes up and between her folds. Daphne sucks hard on her clit with deep languish strokes of her tongue pressing down against it.

Daphne’s nails dig roughly into her hips, dragging almost thoughtfully down the sides of her thighs and down the inside of them. Lines of red rising in the wake as Hermione moans, head tilting a bit helplessly as Blaise’s teeth drag against her lower lip before letting go and angling down.

Hermione jerks back against him, her rump pressing against the bulge of his cock as he bites down hard, his teeth scraping down her shoulder before doing it again. Daphne’s hand found her hip to keep her still as he rubbed himself against her before dipping down a bit impatiently to draw his shirt and sweater over his head, wanting to feel more of her.

His bare chests moulds against her back, hand finding purchase against her neck to tilt it back, leaving her awkwardly suspended between the two of them as he dragged his tongue up the arch of her throat before sucking down, careful not to leave a mark because Daphne had called dibs and Blaise knew not to push.

So he scrapes his teeth down it before trading it for her jaw, sinking his teeth in with a little tug of her skin.

Hermione’s body jerks when Daphne dips down, sinking her teeth into her thighs, and a whine escapes her before she can bite down on it, a groan following when it only made Daphne bite down deeper before reluctantly letting go and straightening up.

“On the bed,” Daphne commands, eyes dark blue, and Hermione realises only a second too late that the command wasn’t for her at all as Blaise simply hauls her up and deposits her in the middle of it.

A flush rises to her cheeks and stretches down her chest. There’s bruises on her neck, intentions where teeth had dug deep, an echoing one on the inside of her thigh, red lines trailing down her hips and her folds glistening with wetness where she stares up at them.

“Fuck,” Blaise says with some appreciation, reaching to yank his belt off. “On your hands and knees,” he demands and she does as she’s told. He catches the bottle of oil Daphne throws him before she begins to strip her clothes off in far less of a hurry.

He hoists himself up behind her, running an appreciative hand down her flank as he sinks on his knees.

“You remember your word?” he demands.

“Yes,” she says as he grasps for her rump, palming it roughly.

“Confirm it," he nearly pleads as he yanks the cork out with his teeth.

“Malfoy,” she pants.

“Good,” he growls, oil pouring over his fingers and down the spread of her cheeks. Blaise presses against the pink fluttering entrance with two of his fingers, pushing inside with a twist of his fingers and groan as he sunk into her heat, teeth sinking into her back with a rough scrape as she jerks instinctively.

“Blaise,” Daphne warns.

“I know,” he groans. “Fuck, I know, I know-“ But he can’t resist spreading his fingers, dragging them up against her walls, feeling the way the tight ring clenched down around him. He shifts, rubbing his straining cock against the side of her thigh as he pulls the digits out and pushes inside, far slower than he wanted, tilting his head as Daphne presses her palm against the side of his face and catches his mouth in a hungry kiss he folds willingly too.

Their relationship has always been a bit odd, but he’s always liked that, moaning in appreciation as her hand dips down to wrap firmly around his cock through his underwear as he thrusts into the girl on her knees below them both.

“On her back,” Daphne murmurs to him as she draws back with a teasing little drag of her nails against him, and he groans as he slips out of Hermione and drags her bodily down with a rough little surprised breath, pupils blown wide as Daphne delicately stretches to dip a knee down on either side of her face.

“I hope you aren’t too fond of breathing, sweetness,” Daphne murmurs as she cards her fingers through messy brown hair. “Because you’re going to be putting your mouth to good use which means you won’t be able to use your word. I will allow you to give me a pinch, however,” she says, giving Hermione’s hand a little tug until it settled against her rump. “We’re not going anywhere until you get me off,” she promises with a curl of her lips.

Blaise spends an appreciative moment watching his girlfriend sink down, Hermione’s hand tightening against her flesh as Daphne shifts to grind down over her mouth and nose with a moan as a tongue flattened hungrily up against her.

He slips his fingers back into Hermione, twisting as she clenched down.

Hermione for her part _can’t breathe._ Her mouth is filled with the taste of Daphne, wetness smearing over her chin and nose as the other girl rubs herself off unashamedly against her, leaving Hermione struggling to draw small desperate breaths through her nose until her senses are so full that she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

She clings, her mind unable to focus on anything past the fingers sliding into her arse as Blaise pushes up against the inside of her thigh to bare her further and Daphne who fills mouth and mind.

She’s aware of the flesh beneath her palm but even as her vision prickles white, lungs burning, she only digs her nails in until Daphne eases back just enough to allow her a kip of air before her hips slide forward again, effectively stealing it away from her.

She jerks as Blaise slips out of her only to have Daphne level more of her weight on her, fingers digging roughly into her hair.

“Focus on me,” the blonde demands a Blaise yanks his boxers down, smearing oily fingers down the straining flesh before hauling Hermione’s legs up over his shoulders.

“Only on me,” Daphne repeats as she clenches her thighs, sealing air off completely as Blaise pressed the head of his cock against her, breathing hard as Hermione opened around him, the hard ring of muscles sealing down and dragging tight and raw against him as he sinks into her body.

Nails digs into Daphne’s hips as she counts and Blaise draws back, their eyes meeting.

Daphne presses up on her knees and Blaise surges forward with a hard smack of his hips against her.

Hermione cries out as she sucks in a harsh, desperate breath, managing three before Daphne pins her down, sinking down again. Wet folds over a warm heaving mouth, a tongue that curls up to press against her even as Hermione quivered beneath her. 

Daphne brushes gentle fingers over Hermione’s brow, eyes dark and steady upon her even as Blaise thrust into her, rocking her body with a strange heavy fullness that made her fingers curl around Daphne’s hips.

“Figured out who’s in charge, did you?” Daphne murmurs appreciatively, rising just to watch a tongue stretch out to flick against her clit.

A tremble of anticipation runs through Daphne as she lifts up and turns around, fingers ghosting gently over the arch of the other girl’s throat as she sunk down, watching with interest as her boyfriend drags his cock almost lazily out of her before snapping forward, burying deep.

“Close?” Daphne asks with a challenge in her eyes.

“She feels so fucking _good_,” he rasps roughly as he buries all the way to the root. “Is her mouth as good as I think it is?” he demands as he grinds into her.

“Better,” Daphne promises as Hermione pushes into her, tongue curling sharp and clever to drag against her walls, rubbing against sensitive nerves with a rough twist that makes Daphne's breath hitch, fingers clenching momentarily around the pale stretch of her throat before relaxing.

_Not now, _she reminds herself, focusing on her own pleasure, mouth curling as Blaise swears before speeding up with a wrecked sort of moan from the girl below Daphne, who presses down with an arch of her back.

A warm mouth sucks hard around Daphne's clit, arms looping around her thighs to pull her down a brief widening of her eyes, words twisting on her tongue as Daphne came _hard _with a noise she’d never admit to being a yelp as she jerked only to be pulled down.

Her muscles slowly relaxe, twitching in the sensitive after-shocks as a tongue lapped almost apologetically at her clit.

Blaise pulls out of Hermione, collapsing aside with wonder in his eyes. “I came,” he informs her when Daphne gives him an inquiring look. “How could I not when she caught you so beautifully by surprise?”

Hermione takes a moment to get a grasp of her faculties, aware of the cum that had filled her up with a hard clench of her hip, of Daphne’s wetness in her mouth and nose, smeared over her chin and lips that she wipes at as the blonde eases off her on the opposite side.

“You said we wouldn’t be going anywhere until I got you off,” Hermione says with a little curl of her lips when Blaise gives a breathy sort of laugh.

“She got you there, love,” he says, grinning unashamedly in his nudity.

Not that he had anything to be ashamed off – she’d felt the way he spread her open, wide and overwhelming, reaching deep inside of her.

A brush of cleaning magic tingles against her nose and Hermione turns just as Daphne tucks her wand away.

“Be a darling and give Blaise a hand,” she says with a little tilt of her head. “He did make you some pretty promises, didn’t he?”

Hermione turns and Blaise rolls over among the pillows, spreading his legs invitingly with a charming little grin that makes her own lips tug in return as she crawls towards him, ducking under a long leg that lifts obligingly to allow her to dip beneath it before settling down.

Hermione draws her hair aside but Blaise’s hand brushes against her own as he pushes up, resting on one hand, giving her hair a little twist to make sure it wouldn’t get in the way. “Wouldn’t want to miss this for anything in the world," he promises her with a rough sort of voice and a flash of teeth.

She inhales and then dips down, feeling the way his grip allows it, making it very clear that he was still in charge as she opened her mouth and dragged her tongue up and over his half-hard cock which twitches.

The magic that had cleaned him up tingles against her mouth as she flexes her tongue and sucks down to urge more saliva into her mouth as she nuzzles up against him. She allows his cock to drag over her cheek, tongue stroking out and up over him as he slowly twitches and grows, swelling with a sigh as he strokes a thumb against her temple.

Blaise’s eyes rise from her to watch Daphne open their lower drawer, eyebrow rising up before his attention snaps down as Hermione opens her mouth and swallows him down, tongue flattening very deliberately against the underside of him.

He inhales sharply, eyes widening as inch after inch after _inch_ disappears into her, cock curving down her throat and nose pressing into his pubis hair with satisfaction and just a hint of smugness in the brown eyes that doesn’t veer from his for a second.

“Daphne-” Blaise says weakly, jerking as the minx _swallows around him._ “This is real, right?”

Daphne cranes her head around, pausing at the sight they made. “Looks like it,” she says after a moment, eyes lingering on the way the other girl held her breath, a quiver in her belly before slowly urging up to draw air before sinking down again to hold him there, lips spread a bit obscenely. “Pretty,” she says with some admiration before turning back to rummage about.

Blaise gives her a disbelieving look before darting back to the girl between his legs.

“I’ll have you know that’s entirely unfair,” he tells her, tightening his grip on her hair. “Hand on my hip, same rules as with Daphne,” he cautions and her lips stretches around him, hand shifting obligingly as she _bobs down_ and he draws a sharp breath, swallowing a curse as he felt the way his cock curve inside the walls of her throat.

_“Fuck,”_ he mutters, pressing her down further just to see how far he could take it and marvelling at the sight she made.

Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinary, one of the sharpest minds to come out of Hogwarts, apparently lacksing any sort of gag reflex.

_Bless her, _he thinks a bit feverishly.

Daphne draws a harness from their pile of toys, the leather straps looping in place with some familiarity as she gives it a tug to make sure it was properly in place before reaching for an icy blue dildo with an upwards curve of the smooth head. She returns to the bed which dips as she settles on her knees behind Hermione, spreading her cheeks and blowing lightly at the hole which clenches down in response.

“Can’t let Blaise have all the fun, I want to watch you spread for me,” she says with a kiss to her right buttock before straightening up, giving Blaise a meaningful look towards the hand still on his thigh.

Daphne rubs the toy between Hermione’s cheeks before pushing forward, watching the pink ring spread out, Blaise giving her a lazy thumbs-up as a go ahead from where he was still gripping Hermione’s hair.

She sinks deep into the body below her, making sure she was buried all the way to the root before activating the magic that would create a feedback loop and groaning as warmth immediately blossomed around her, feeling the stickiness of Blaise's come as she leant forward and dragged her teeth down the bumps of the smaller girl’s spine.

Blaise inhales with an embarrassing noise as Hermione sinks impossibly deeper on him, hips rising higher in response, throat closing and opening around his cock in a hard swallow.

“Do that again,” he breathes to his girlfriend who smiles before obliging, pulling out and thrusting inside with a smooth roll of her hips.

Daphne bites down on the softer flesh beside her spine, worrying it into a deep dark mark as she thrust slowly and lazily into Hermione, enjoying the warmth that grasped beautifully around her.

She releases the skin with a drag of her tongue over the mark before sliding her hands up the girl’s flanks and up her spine and by her neck, hands wrapping loosely around her neck, following the bobbing motion as she pushed as deep as the toy would allow her to go before squeezing as Blaise pushed down, effectively cutting off her air to a strangled groan that made Blaise’s hips jerk up.

“You’re so good for us,” Daphne breathes as she tightens her grip, mindful not to push down on her windpipe but beside it, counting carefully before releasing and Blaise drew her up with a desperate flare of Hermione’s ribcage before she was pushed down again, Daphne’s hands folding harder, placing a kiss between quivering shoulder blades.

Breath play was a rush – it released adrenaline and endorphins both as breath came surging back to fill starved lungs but it wasn’t for everyone. Blaise and Daphne both had issues giving up control but Hermione craved it and they were all too happy to oblige. 

“Good girl,” Daphne murmurs as Hermione gasps around the cock in her mouth, Blaise’s face doing a funny thing as Hermione wrapped her tongue around him, stroking languish against him with dark hooded eyes, hand lax against his thigh.

“Once he comes it’s your turn,” Daphne promises as she pulls out and pushes forward and inside the warm depth of her. “You’ll love it – I’m going to make you feel so _good_.”

Blaise shivers as Hermione sinks down on him again, following their motions until he hitches up into her mouth and came with a groan and a splatter of warm sticky cum down her throat that she swallows with a broad stroke against the head of his cock.

Hernione eases off as he relaxes his grip on her and Daphne pulls out of her as Blaise paws for his wand with a brush of a cleaning spell. 

“I think we’ve been neglecting you long enough,” Daphne murmurs as she hooks a leg out to twist Hermione down on her back as Blaise shifts slightly to give them space. The blonde crowds between the spread of the smaller girl’s legs, palm flattening against her belly momentarily as she bent down to give one of her nipples a little tug to a low grunt.

“You can touch me,” Daphne decides. “You can beg me for more – in fact, I want you to, or I’m going to take you so slow you’re going to be sobbing at the end of it.”

“That a promise?” Hermione asks, voice rough.

“Oh, it is a guarantee,” Daphne says before snapping her teeth down, digging a rough mark into a pale unmarred breast and sucking down hard to bruise as Hermione’s hips twitched up in response. “Blaise, be a darling and get me the purple one,” she says as she reaches down between her legs and snaps off the blue dildo.

He gives her an appreciative look as he slides off the bed and pads over to the dresser, finding the correct one and throwing it over as Hermione watched them both, head tilting against the bed to get a better look.

Daphne twists it in place and Hermione admires the girthy long stretch of it as magic hummed to life with a little twitch of Daphne’s hips as sensations flowed smoothly to register as her own.

Daphne trails her mouth down the flat panes of Hermione’s belly, nibbling against the stretch of her hip bone, quite unable to resist giving the skin a tug with her teeth.

Hermione won’t admit to it, but it’s terribly frustrating – she was already well and ready worked up, having edged up so close to an orgasm twice already before it had died down with a bitten down noise of frustration.

It had been strange to have Blaise take her as he did but it’d been _good_ and she’d been so very close to coming with the taste of Daphne on her lips as the lack of air left her downright _floaty._ And then have it repeat again with his cock down her throat and her arse once again filled because there was a theme between these two, obviously, but she really rather just wanted Daphne to _take her._

_All you need to do is to trust us, _that’s what Blaise had said and Hermione’s hand twitches because while Daphne had given her permission to touch a part of her really didn’t want to before Daphne was well and truly inside of her.

Daphne’s teeth sinks into the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and Hermione’s hips rise up at the responding flare of her arousal.

Her body is sure to be left a patch-work of lovebites and bite marks at the end of the evening and a deep dark part of her _craves it._

She likes it and there’s something terribly arousing about these two picking apart her kinks so very _easily._

Her walls clamps down, the head of the dildo bobbing between her legs, so very close to where she wanted it and yet refusing to give her what she wanted.

_Beg,_ that’s what Daphne wants her to do.

Hermione quivers as teeth drag over the outside of her folds, groaning when it continues over her clit without touching, to a tongue stroking broad and flat against the inside of her left thigh in a promise of what could have been.

_“Daphne-”_ she gasps with a sharp jerk and the blonde smirks as she gives the soft skin a little tug before releasing it.

“There you are,” the blonde murmurs as she noses up between her legs. “I was starting to think you’d gone mute on me.” Her tongue flicks up against her clit, looking rather like a very smug feline where she rests between the spread of Hermione’s thighs.

All that was missing is a flickering tail.

“You’re really going to make me beg for it,” Hermione says with a hitch of her breath as Daphne breathes hotly against her.

“Mm,” she agrees even as Hermione spread her legs further, so desperately wet that Daphne couldn’t resist a large broad stroke through it, the tip of her tongue dipping enticingly against her entrance and then up to a noise of frustration as hips rising to chase it.

“You taste very good,” Daphne compliments and Hermione’s stomach quivers at the liquid praise.

“Daphne-”

“That’s my name.”

“You-” Hermione jolts, a sharp shocked noise escaping her as Daphne moves beneath her to press two fingers up against the straining ring of her back entrance.

“Maybe I should just take you here again,” Daphne says with a little contemplative push. “I rather enjoyed the way you felt around me.”

“You wouldn’t dare-” Hermione gasps.

“Wouldn’t I?” Daphne asks with a fiendish little grin.

“No.” Hermione pushes down with her heels against the bed, her safe-word curling at the back of her mouth because she wanted to come. She _needed_ to come; she’s wired with enough sexual frustration that anything else is simply out of the question. “Daphne- _fuck me._”

Blaise makes an interesting noise beside her, but Hermione’s eyes are locked on dark blue as Daphne shifts, stretching out over Hermione who sinks down against the bed with a little stutter of her heart.

And then Daphne is kissing her, tongue curling into her mouth to stroke against her own as Hermione angles desperately up to deepen it.

“As you wish,” Daphne murmurs with some satisfaction and Hermione’s brain is not given more than a second to register the words before the blonde’s hands seal hard on the sides of her belly and Daphne’s hips snap forward _hard._

The spread is rough and sudden, the toy opening her out to sink deep inside of her cunt as her walls clench down around it with a wet noise as her back arches up with a cry.

Daphne draws out only to snap forward again as Hermione clings to her, fingers sinking down and digging into the pale shoulders above her as her hips lurch up and Daphne presses down.

“Louder,” Daphne demands as she thrust forward and Hermione chokes on her name, the rough painful stretch making her senses sing as her orgasm edged up, tears stinging her eyes as she spreads her legs to a sharp breath above her, a rustling noise registering somewhere to her left as Daphne takes her hard and without faltering.

Hands slides up her sides and breasts before finding her throat and Hermione’s eyes flare wide.

“Trust us,” Blaise reminds her as he presses her left hand flat against her thigh. “Remember?”

Hermione thinks she says yes – must have because Daphne’s hands clench down and suddenly she can’t breathe at all.

The lack of oxygen leaves her painfully aware of her body, at the rough thrusts of the blonde between her legs, at the dark hand over her own to keep it steady against his thigh.

The world narrows until everything is so wired tight inside of her and all she can see is blue, lungs burning and burning and _burning_.

“Come,” Daphne gasps, releasing her abruptly as she thrusts forward and buries deep into her as Hermione clenches down, tipping over into an overwhelming orgasm as she simultaneously sucks in a desperate breath for air with an arch of her back and an explosion of white.

-

Hermione comes to with a little jerk, blinking awake blearily, not quite sure where she was for a moment, but registering the soothing strokes of a hand moving almost absently over her spine and turning her head to give the blonde girl above her a mildly confused look.

“You blacked out,” Daphne informs her. “Just for a little bit. It happens – you were pretty wound-up and according to Blaise’s scans you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly.”

Hermione flushes a bit because – yeah, she can’t deny that.

“How are you feeling?” Daphne inquiries, reaching for the bowl beside her. Hermione opens her mouth and accepts the strawberry without fight when it nudges up against her lips.

She takes a moment to consider it, shifting until she’s lying properly on her back with her head on the other's knee, Daphne’s hand shifting to slide over her belly.

“Good,” she admits and it’s true – she feels calmer, more settled than she’s been in _months_. Her muscles are strangely lax and the tension in her shoulders seems to have mysteriously disappeared.

“Really good,” she says, accepting a grape, with a burst of flavour when she bites down.

“You’re staying with us tonight,” Daphne informs her and Hermione tilts her head a fraction, realising that Daphne looks almost drowsy, a sort of sleepy contentedness to her that frankly made her look adorable. It’s a far cry from the sharp icy stare that had met her own only hours ago. “Blaise is fetching some healing cream as well – we might have gone a bit overboard.”

The hand on her belly trails up to touch against the dark bruises on her neck with an apologetic little brush.

“I rather like them,” Hermione admits as she breathes out. “Too bad they aren’t quite work friendly.”

Daphne considers that, fingers touching down against the dark bruise on her breast. “Some of them are,” the blonde says a bit decisively and Hermione’s mouth curves in agreement.

Blaise slides into the room with a jar of healing cream and Daphne tilts her head to him.

“Some of them are work friendly,” she tells him a bit solemnly and he pauses, running a critical eye down Hermione’s body, at least what could be seen with the cover tugged up her hips.

“I suppose they are,” he says with a raised eyebrow that she nods to.

He settles down beside them in a pair of purple boxers that matches his eyes, unscrewing and slathering a generous layer on her throat that soothed away the slight swelling.

He dabs just a tiny amount on the ones deemed _work friendly_, Daphne wiping away almost immediately at the one on her breast to a little huff of laughter from Blaise and a twitch of Hermione’s lips as she slid her eyes shut, content to let them take care of her.

She cracks them open again when Blaise’s fingers brushes hesitantly over the brace on her wrist.

“I’m not one to pry and you don’t have to tell us,” He hedges carefully. “But is it something we should be mindful of?”

Hermione hesitates but- “Some marks I’d rather just forget about,” she sighs. “You can look if you want. I don’t mind it.”

There’s a brief moment of stillness and then hands were gently encircling her wrist, straps carefully undone to slide it off to a hissed breath from above her.

“Who did this?” Daphne asks, mouth twisting up as she leant closer.

“Bellatrix,” Hermione says and while she’s made peace with it she’d hated the way Ron looked at it and it had been easier to cover it up than answer prying questions from curious strangers whenever she wore short sleeves.

Somewhere along the line it had just become habit.

Her fingers twitch and when lips press down gently against the scar, giving Blaise a surprised look as he lingered.

“You should spend the weekend with us,” he says instead of answering her silent question, drawing back. “I make a killer omelette.”

“He’s lying,” Daphne denies immediately. “He’s a mess and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

“_Killer_ omelette,” Blaise repeats, laughing when she gave him a flat unimpressed look.

Hermione’s first instinct should be to say _no_ but-

“I’d like that,” she says softly and Blaise breathes out.

“Good,” he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That means no kidnapping, love,” he says to his girlfriend.

“It was just a _thought,_” the blonde says unapologetically when Hermione looks to her. “We enjoyed it,” she tells Hermione as she leans down to press a kiss to the corner of her lips, lingering with a soft brush of air. “Breakfast then lunch then dinner,” she murmurs with a hopeful look.

“Suppose I wouldn’t be terribly opposed to that,” Hermione grins, turning and capturing Daphne’s lips in a soft kiss. “Although I do believe we’re doing this whole thing a bit backwards,” she says as she pulls away.

“We’ve had some fantastic sex and not even a first date,” Blaise says with a little yawn as he wiggles his arms around her and pulls her along with him as he flops down among the pillows to a small laugh as she squirmed up to settle on the pillow. “I think we’re doing wonderfully.”

Daphne draws the covers along and Hermione finds herself spooned between them, arms around her and legs twisting together as the light dimmed to darkness.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against Daphne’s neck and arms tightens briefly around her, Blaise’s lips pressing against her neck.

“Sleep, Hermione,” Daphne murmurs and she’s all too happy to oblige.

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don't do anything for kinktober because of my absolutely inability to limit myself once faced with a challenge and, notably, this ended up far longer than I meant to. But the plot wanted what it wanted and here we are! 
> 
> I think it needed to be, all things considered, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I am terribly fond of Daphne and Blaise both and they made an interesting dynamic with a tired and overworked Hermione so this was fun.
> 
> I hang about tumblr as artsy-death if you're around there.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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